Episodes

There are poems that decorate language, and then there are poems that indict the soul. Dylan Thomas’ villanelle, written in 1951 as his father was going blind and approaching death, is not merely a meditation on mortality; it is a structured rebellion against diminishment. The villanelle form itself, with its nineteen lines and two refrains braided through the body of the poem, is a discipline of return. The repetition is not aesthetic flourish; it is insistence. “Do not go gentle into that good...